Mutley's Diary
Suzanne Trocme-Verburg - style journalistThe Marais district in Paris is already pretty chic, but what better companion to show off my antique designer coat than Mutley. Sitting with him I really felt like one of the 'in' crowd though in case I got too full of myself Mutley placed a dirty paw on the coat! Horrors! The humbling and menial task of brushing the muck off did me a favour, of course, reminding me that no matter how hip we are we still need to clean. That is one profound fashion statement.
Brenda Dalheim - Melbourne hospital honcho As an Aussie fan of Mutley, often to be found huddled around the screen with friends and colleagues, to actually meet, and be photographed, with
The Mutt was mind blowing. Given that the Queen is on the skids over here maybe Mutley could be well placed in the Head of State stakes. Some may scoff but, hell, after what I have seen of Mutley, in the role of goodwill ambassador he would have no match. Imagine a nussle and a lick could heal the wounds of the world. Mutley for President!!!!!
Sally Singer - Fashion Editor of Vogue
As something of the talk of the town in Paris, I finally got a private audience with Mutley who also agreed to see me with my baby boy, Malachy - they share initials. Considering the old adage about not appearing with children Mutley superstar was a trooper and as the photo shows was most attentive.
We chatted about the latest looks and trends and I learnt that The House of Mutley is taking shape. I said Go Buddy Go! A guy with so much style has got something to offer the jaded taste buds of the world's fashion divas. But,girls stand back, Mutley has promised me the exclusive on his first design.
09.02.00
Out with a journalist from Numero magazine in Paris and all of a sudden I was mobbed by camera-clicking Japanese. The whole thing was totally unstaged, the trained eye you could see their emotion was not faked. "We saw you on TV" they shrieked. Most incredible was the reaction of been Phillip the fashion journo surpassed even them. He was gobsmacked and I could not believ my good fortune.
As a result of this chance encounter I look like I am heading for the pages of Numero, the hippest new magazine in Paris.
Meanwhile the cassette of my appearance on "Exclusif", primetime French TV show, is doing the rounds in the right circles. It is soon being shipped off to the Channel 4 News in London: requested by reporter Kirsty Lang.
Soon we are to be talking about the thorny subject of 'Pet Passport Pitfalls'. I want to share. Since I revealed the content my profile the interview will be broadened to include my new persona as 'The Furry Face of Fashion".
As part of my phased entry into the world of superstardom plans are underway for my 'meet and greet' with select members of the fashion press at a new bar restaurant in the heart of Paris.
As if that is not enough two people have been asking about the chances of forthcoming fatherhood. And the answer is 'yes' when I meet the right girl.
Am I getting too much?
January 12th 2000
I thought it would be difficult to top the emotion at my website warming when I went on line worldwide, but your first primetime takes alot of beating. Joined by a close personal group of friends I took over the Coffee Shop, a groovy bar in the Marais. Sadly one of my female admirers, the boxer Margo, was not there but there were plenty of others.
The local boulanger had created special doggie shaped 'sable' biscuits each individually autographed with my name. As airtime approached the atmosphere was electric - so exciting was it that my personal vet Dr Flachaire was on in attendance should I swoon.
In the seat of honour I must say I rather held court as we settled down to watch a most pleasurable 2 minutes plus which captured the real me. Showy never, but I quite agreed with one of my friends who I am sure was trying to say 'star quality' between mouthfuls of Mutley biscuit.
And, of course, the next day the compliements began. "I saw you last night" etc etc. The true meaning of celebrity was beginning to dawn.
January 8th 2000
A red letter day for me as I was followed round by TF1 TV cameras and introduced the charming journalist, Jonathan Lambert to all my local friends in the Marais. This was the follow-up to the filming of my website launch. First we met up with various four legged friends and then we headed for a modelling agency to get top professional advice on my book which contains articles from French Elle to the Evening Standard, many in glorious technicolour. Next we headed my local newspaper kiosk where the charming Laurence fed me sweetmeats for the camera and explained how I visit in the morning to check if I am in any leading journal and also to keep abreast of fashion and the latest star news.
Afterwards came a most important rendez vous with my delightful vet Catherine Flachaire. Though it was set up for the camera she lost not time telling me that I had overdone the salmon and foie gras over the festive period. Worse she embarrasingly revealed that I had required a 'stomach evacuation' after downing a plastic squeaky toy. Boy did I go red to my roots-not so much the furry face of fashion more the fiery face!
Lastly we headed to Les Philosophes where I had a much needed thirst quenching drink on the terrace. My last duty before bidding Jonathan and the crew farewell was, you've guessed, to sign an autograph. Despite the fact that he is dazzled by stars on a daily basis and never asks, on this occasion he could not restrain himself. Humble and touched you might say. I took it as a great compliment.
December 31st 1999/1st January 2000
Christmas was in the north so naturally for New Year I headed south to Avignon. The city of the popes and, now, pooches. I stayed at a fashionable restaurant C'est La Lune in the hills overlooking the city and enjoyed a very raucous turn of the millennium. The party theme was a picnic sur la Lune - thats picnic on the moon to you non-french speakers. It was far out.
My New Year was a small step for a dog and a giant leap for the animal kingdom, you might say.
Looking down over the Rhone and the new TGV bridge and those Impressionists poplars I really did think myself lucky.
25th December 1999
So where do you think I turned up for the Christmas celebrations. As you won't guess in a 1,000 years I'll tell you, Lille in the north of France.
Christmas Eve was an oyster fest in a Lille brasserie next to a big wheel which practically filled one of the central squares. My snap was taken in front of it and I wished everyone I saw a merry christmas as I walked the city centre.
Christmas Day was spent in a cosy town house where the Serbian landlady had left her mark, notably a hole in the kitchen floor as part of her on-going DIY plumbing works. Thankfully I didn't dive down it head first! Very Joe Orton.
Resident is a cross breed, some might call him a mongrel, called Harry. The name is where the royal connection ends. This boy is a somewhat uncouth and territorial little blighter and since a little misunderstanding on our first encounter - nasty scrap actually - I am cast as the villain of the piece. For that read everytime I go near Harry he begins to hysterically bark and growl. Talk about not welcome!
Anyway that was not to spoil my yule fun as he was left behind as we drove off to Ghent in Belgium for Boxing Day. What a magical little town centre, I could quite see myself moving there. We stayed in the St Georges Hotel in the grandly named, but not so grand, Bach suite. That said the dining room was a very splendid affair, more of a banqueting hall. I had my photo taken against a stained glass window of St George sorting out the fiery dragon.
Heroic stuff.
15.12.99
Phew. I thought creating this web site was going to be hard world until I started putting together the party. You'd think for someone who has attended so many glamorous happenings it would be simple. Wrong.
Ordering up the nibbles selecting the drinks it has been a real ordeal. Still when the site gets underway it will seem as if all the hard work was worthwhile.
There is so much to include and I have two exciting projects for the New Year already. As you may know I have had my portrait painted, now the artist Diane Dicker wants to do another. This time we will be following the creation of this work with updates and behind the scenes photographs of work in progress.
The second project is of a rather more sensitive nature: coming soon the Mutley sperm bank. Well it's the least I can do!
A DOG'S LIFE
THE WEBSITE WARMING; mutleydog.com launches.
15th December 1999
With corks and flashbulbs popping my cyber self was born. Suitably I chose a couture boutique in the Marais (a chic Paris quartier) to step out.
People started arriving around 7pm and began looking at my portrait in oils (vanity! vanity!) and admiring my can of Loyal in a glass display case.
Of course I was backstage during arrivals, but around 7.45pm I made my entrance. Applause, no less! The scene was now set for the launch. The computer, a tangerine (my favourite fruit, incidentally) Apple, was cunningly hidden in an alcove conceiled behind tall, elegant wooden doors.
Two lovelies, Mamouna and Erika (all the way from Australia) slipped discreetly backstage with me. The lights went down and the slow build of the Space Odessey 2001 theme (thus spake etc) filled the room. Hands crept round the doors. As the trumpets rose the door slowly opened and revealed me in the Mutley Cyber Grotto next to my home page. The crowd roared. Applause thundered.
French TV TF1 zoomed in close as my paw clicked the site on-line. The French correspondent of America's People magazine gasped. Hardened hacks from the Guardian, Telegraph and blase fashion folk all took a breath as the pages unfolded and mutleydog.com was born.
After this moment in the ether I decided to show take to the catwalk and present my haute couture red coat modelled on the Napoleon Martin Grant design, as worn by Naomi Campbell in the same boutique earlier in the year.
The second outfit was more grunge. It was the grey and white chequered bespoke number I modelled earlier in the year with Ivanka Trump. People seemed to like it.
All this attention, I confess, it did go to my head. As we headed out for the celebration dinner I refused to let go of my faithful ball - If I can misquote Harry Truman 'If you want a friend in fashion buy a ball' .
Convinced my superstardom would ensure a seat at the top table, I was rather chastened at being left back in the appartment. Made me think, humilty will be my next goal.
Woof! Woof!
